Better Living Through Chemistry
by isawthelight
Summary: Jack Sparrow, Gilbert Grape, Mort Rainey, Sweeney Todd, Anthony Hope and Ichabod Crane sign up for a drug trial to make some extra money. Drama ensues. Mpreg.
1. Chapter 1

Similar to the story St. Joseph's Shelter for Men. Thank you to Phish Tacko for beta'ing this.

Ch. 1

Ichabod removed the final article of clothing from his suitcase and looked around.

It was a nice dorm room, he had to admit. It was fairly large, with big windows that let in a lot of sun. There was a set of white dressers, and the walls were painted a light blue color, which went well with the royal blue comforters set up on the beds. Steinbeck University's Clinical Trials program must have been well funded, if they could afford such accommodations.

Ichabod chose the bed furthest from the window; he didn't particularly like heights, and this bed was closer to the floor. Hopefully his roommate would be okay with sleeping in the other one instead.

He sat down on the edge of it and sighed.

This was to be his home for the coming months.

He glanced down at the paper that he'd printed out.

"Mort Rainey," He read off the name of his roommate.

He wondered what kind of person Mort was. He didn't have much of a say in who he was paired with. He supposed that if he and Mort were not a good match, he could ask for a re-assignment.

He flipped the document over. The day's schedule was printed on the back. Apparently, he was supposed to meet with the doctors in a few minutes.

Sighing, he stood back up, stretched, and made his way towards the door.

As he was walking down the hallway, he was nearly pushed down by a man coming the opposite way.

"Excuse me," Ichabod muttered as he righted himself.

"Hm? Oh, sorry," the man – a blonde with glasses- replied. It didn't seem all that sincere.

Ichabod rolled his eyes but said nothing. As he turned the corner, he noticed the man go into his room. That must be Mort, then.

00

Anthony didn't much like needles, but part of the study was that the participants receive daily injections.

At least Mr. Todd was in the room with him. Seeing Anthony looking at him, Sweeney nodded and grunted, annoying the nurse who was trying to find a vein.

"Well, this is fun." Anthony said.

"Tons. Worth the payout, though."

Anthony had to admit that it was true. The study promised thirty thousand dollars for completing the study – more than enough for a down payment on a home for himself and Johanna.

"Ow!" He hissed as the nurse moved the needle around his vein.

"Sorry 'bout that." The woman focused on her task, slowly injecting a bright blue elixir into him.

She was just about finished when a noise at the door startled everyone. A dark-haired man had entered.

"Uh, hello..." He greeted nervously. The mere sight of the needles seemed to frighten him, and Anthony wondered if the man might be sick from it. He watched as the man rubbed his arm and averted his gaze.

"I'll be done in a second," The nurse working on Anthony replied. "Just take a seat." She motioned towards a set of chairs.

Sweeney was finished before Anthony. He sat down next to the dark-haired man and waited for his friend to join him.


	2. Chapter 2

Three hours later, the study group gathered at a table in the cafeteria. Part of the day's schedule had been an introduction over dinner, so that they could get to know each other.

The lead doctor, a short, slight man with a noticeable gray comb over, sat with them, along with a psychologist. Pizza boxes, soda and paper plates lined the tables and the trial participants began to help themselves.

"So, I think we should start out by going around, saying our names, and then something about ourselves. After that, I'll field any questions that you might have. Sound good?" The doctor asked.

The group nodded and grunted in agreement.

"I'll start, then. My name is Bazek Malinowski, and I'm originally from Poland. I've been practicing medicine for thirty years, and I have high hopes that the drug that we're developing will help many, many people." He glanced at the therapist and gestured for her to go next.

She was young, with blonde hair, glasses, and pale skin.

"My name is Amanda Paris. I'm thirty three, and I'm a big fan of books and movies. Over the course of a year, I have read fifty five books. Also, I'm the resident therapist, and if you have any concerns, or you ever need to talk, I'm the one you should come to."

"That's a lot of books." One of the men – a redhead – muttered.

Dr. Paris smiled at him.

Mort, meanwhile, stared at her, fascinated. Not only was she beautiful, but she liked to read?! He wondered if she'd ever read any of his work.

"How about you?" Dr. Malinowski asked, interrupting the writer's thoughts.

"Me? Oh. Okay. My name's Mort Rainey. You might recognize me, I'm a writer." He continued to gaze at Dr. Paris while he spoke. "I've written six books, but I wanted to take a break from it, hence the reason I'm participating in this study. Lots of money, none of the work," He joked.

The doctor nodded in understanding.

"I think that's why most of you are here. Okay, great. How about you?" He looked at the redhead.

"My name's Gilbert. Gilbert Grape. I live with my mom and my brother Arnie. Arnie's special needs, but I love him. And I love my girlfriend, Becky. I want to use the money from this to put a down payment down on a home for us."

"Hey, me too!" Anthony quipped. "Small world!"

"Cool," Gilbert replied. "Nice to see we have something in common already."

"You can go next," the doctor said to Anthony.

"Alright. I'm Anthony Hope. I'm eighteen and I came here with Mr. Todd. He's a good friend, and my partner in crime," He chuckled. "As I mentioned, I hope to use the money on a home for myself and my fiancée, Johanna."

"Nice to meet you, Anthony," Dr. Malinowski replied. He turned to Ichabod. "You're up."

Ichabod cleared his throat.

"My name is Ichabod Crane, and my previous employment was as an officer of the law."

Dr. Malinowski nodded.

"Anything else?"

"Uh... I have a passion for photography?" He tried.

"Alright, good."

"You seemed like you were going to pass out when we were in the medical room," Sweeney noted. "What happened – they fire you because you got too scared of the blood at crime scenes?"

"I may not enjoy the sight of blood, but I assure you that I was excellent at forensics." Ichabod answered, clearly insulted.

Sweeney snorted, but said nothing else.

"Now, let's not mock each other," Dr. Paris said, glaring at Sweeney.

"Yes, alright. My turn, then? My name is Sweeney Todd. I'm a barber. I need some extra money. I came here with Anthony."

"Okay." Fine with Sweeney's response, the doctor moved on to the group's final participant, who happened to be busy twiddling his thumbs and was clearly not paying attention to anything.

The doctor cleared his throat.

Nothing.

He rolled his eyes.

"Jack, would you please give an introduction?"

Hearing his name, Jack perked up.

"My turn? Let's see..." He thought for a moment. "My name's Jack Sparrow. You may have heard of me."

Silence.

"None of you? Really?" He tried again. "No one here has heard of Captain Jack Sparrow? Jeez. Alright. I'm captain of the Black Pearl, sailed around the world many times, stolen lots of treasure, seen lots of sights. But I'm getting older, might as well try a new way of making ends meet."

"Welcome, Jack," Dr. Malinowski said. "Welcome, everyone. Now that we've met each other, I'm open to any questions that you may have about the drug, the study, or anything else."


	3. Chapter 3

Similar to the story St. Joseph's Shelter for Men. Thank you to Phish Tacko for beta'ing this.

Ch. 3

"Dizziness, nausea and vomiting, cold sweats, hot flashes, night terrors, cramps, bloating, fatigue, weight gain, nosebleeds and sensitive skin… Do you think we'll really have all these side effects?" Gilbert asked. He was looking over the medical literature that Dr. Malinowski had given him.

"Well, probably not all of them at once," Jack replied.

The two of them had been assigned a room together. It had been working out well, at least thus far.

"Seems a bit much, is what I meant." Gilbert flipped the paper over. "But then again, thirty thousand is a lot of money."

"Mmm," Jack agreed. He was preoccupied with his cell phone, but made a small effort to listen. "It is."

"Are you playing a game on that?" Gilbert asked after a moment of silence, wherein Jack didn't look up at him once.

"Hm?"

"Your phone. What are you playing?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm on Instagram. I've got eight hundred thousand followers, if you can believe it! Trying to go through the comments I've gotten today."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow.

"Really? Wow. What do you post photos of?"

"You know, this and that. Sunrise off the coast of Thailand. Sunset on the beaches of the Caribbean. Old buildings in Spain."

You certainly travel a lot," Gilbert said, impressed. "I've never even been out of the US."

"Ah, that's a shame. You're missing out."

Gilbert thought back to Arnie, and Mama and Becky. Taking care of the former two had made it near impossible to get away. The only reason he had been able to do the drug trial is because Becky had offered to stay with his family, knowing that the payout would be worth it.

"I suppose so," Gilbert answered before yawning. He checked his watch. It was only nine, but he was tired.

"I'm going to get some sleep." He stood up and began rummaging around his dresser, trying to find his pajamas.

Jack nodded.

"Alright then. See you in the morning."

He didn't even notice when Gilbert turned out the lights, too focused on his app to care.

00

Sweeney was a good friend, but damn, did he snore loudly.

Anthony had been unable to sleep due to it. It was like trying to sleep near a buzz saw. He briefly wondered if he had a medical condition, like sleep apnea. It was just so damn loud!

Sighing, he sat up and grabbed his laptop bag. He turned on his computer, intent on doing some web browsing until he was tired enough to ignore the sounds. He'd have to get some ear plugs tomorrow, no doubt.

It wasn't long before he had the idea of watching some youtube documentaries. With his earphones in, and the lack of disturbance, Anthony didn't realize how late it had gotten until he looked down and noticed that it was four in the morning.

00

Breakfast the next morning was served in the cafeteria. It was a large room, but very quiet. Dr. Malinowski had explained that the clinical trials program had closed off the entire dorm to everyone except the participants.

It was a good thing, really. Anthony was too cranky to deal with any more people than necessary.

He entered the room wearing the same outfit he'd had on the previous day, too tired to be bothered with finding something clean.

As he sat down, he noticed that Mort had a similar look of disdain.

"You look how I feel," Anthony said.

"I got maybe three hours of sleep," Mort replied, eyeing the coffee machine. "Ichabod here must have a bladder the size of a walnut. He wakes up every three hours."

Ichabod glared at him. "I was quiet about it."

"You stomp around like an elephant."

"I do not! You just have sensitive hearing."

Mort rubbed his eyes.

"I'm too tired to argue over it. I need caffeine, now." He stood up.

"Same," Anthony said, joining him. "Wish they could just inject it into us with those shots."

Mort smirked.

"Now that's an idea worth suggesting."

00

An hour after breakfast, everyone reported to the medical center, where once again, injections were given. This time, things went smoothly, everyone getting their shots while Dr. Malinowski supervised.

And then, there was nothing. No plans, nowhere that anyone had to be.

Anthony and Mort decided to make a bee-line for the nearest drug store to get some sleep aids, while Gilbert and Ichabod headed back to their dorms. Sweeney and Jack remained.

"I read something about a Welcome Week mixer at one of the other buildings on campus," Jack told him. "I was thinking of attending."

"It's all college students. Why would you want to be around college students?" Sweeney asked. He definitely was not a people person.

Jack shrugged.

"Nothing to do here. We don't have much money. I figured it was better than sitting around all day."

"Hm." Sweeney considered this. "You do have a point. What time is it, then?"

"I think the flyer said seven PM. You in?"

Sweeney nodded.

"Yeah, sure. Might as well go."


End file.
